Healing is weird as fuck. One minute you’re connecting the dots and having beautiful little breakthroughs, and the next you’re standing in the kitchen eating ice cream because apparently your brain decided loneliness + food = safety. Knowing why you do something doesn’t magically make it easier to stop. Sometimes, it just means you finally have a fucking backstory.

I didn’t thrive in 2025. I survived it. And honestly? That feels like a win.